Orders
by TheBlackHawkInitiative
Summary: A short Clintasha one-shot. Probably more of a drabble. Clint and Nat come back from a mission and face the turmoil that's been brewing in their relationship. Rated T because I don't like K.


A/N Just a little Clintasha one shot I cooked up a couple of days ago. Not beta read. Not meant to be super long. I guess it's more of a Drabble.

* * *

"Natasha," Clint pleaded through the door, "we need to talk about this. Please."

There was no answer and Clint slumped against the wall. He looked dead tired- and no wonder. The mission had left him roughed up, and the mental strain of his fight with Natasha had made it that much worse. He was about to give up and call Fury when he heard the faint sound of Natasha pressing up against the door.

"What do you want, Barton?" He flinched at the use of his last name. Her voice sounded cold, harsh, and irascible, never like when she called him Clint.

"I'm sorry."

He thought he heard her snigger. "Is that all you have to say?"

"No. Just please open the door, Nat." He wasn't going to talk like this.

"My door's always been open," she laughed dryly. "Look what happened. No Barton, I'm finished with opening doors. If you want in, climb through a window."

Brilliant, he thought. She still has a sense of humor. So be it. Several minutes of silence passed and Natasha decided he had finally left. Good. Perhaps he got the message.

She turned around, only to see him standing right in front of her. "I didn't..." Natasha trailed off, her features softening slightly. Only around Barton would she be so careless.

"I know," he smiled apologetically. "I'm just following your orders," Immediately he regretted his choice of words as her face hardened once again.

"That's a first," she retorted bitterly. "Let's make a second- get out."

For whatever cosmic reason, Clint managed a smile. "I don't think that would be the safest course of action," he answered.

Natasha hissed. "It would be for you," she said- right before her fist connected with Barton's face. He stumbled backwards, his face widening in surprise.

"Maybe I deserved that," he confessed, rubbing his cheek. "Am I bleeding?"

"You should be," she responded bitterly.

"I'm glad you went easy on me then. But that won't be enough to get me to leave. Please, Nat," he begged. "Just hear me out." For a moment he thought she was going to punch him again, but slowly she lowered her fists. Inwardly he let out a sigh of relief. A good start, he thought. She's assuaged.

"You have one minute. Make it count."

"I'm so sorry, Nat. I couldn't let you go, not after what Belikov said. I had to protect you."

"Forty-five seconds."

"It was all part of the plan,"

"I already had a plan!" she spat angrily. Clint winced at her tone. It felt like a knife was being shoved through his heart.

"The building was rigged, Nat. Tons of explosives ready to blow as soon as you walked through that door!"

Natasha shook angrily. "You could have had Belikov detained the minute he landed. This job takes sacrifice! If you can't understand that, you're not fit to be an agent!"

"Not if there's another way. Damn it Natasha, I love you," He looked up at her. "I still love you..."

Through her anger, Natasha hadn't realized how exhausted Clint looked. Dark stubble covered his jaw, giving his cheeks a hollowed, pale look. Bloodshot eyes stared at her with desperation- something she had never seen him wear before. Her eyes softened into something vulnerable as she reached for him.

"Clint," she said softly, stroking his face, "It was still a mission.."

"You know I've never been good with authority, Nat."

"I do," she agreed. "But you need to listen. If back up hadn't arrived, there'd still be a war criminal on the loose and half the city blown away, not just one building."

Clint took her wrists in hand and slid them to his chest. He knew Natasha was right, absolutely, but he couldn't come to regret what he'd done. "You're worth it," he admitted shamelessly.

Before Natasha could protest- tell him how absolutely wrong and stupid that was- his lips where pressed against hers. She didn't pull away; for once in a long time, the consequences didn't matter.

When they finally pulled away Natasha felt herself smile. "Fury's going to have our heads," she mused.

"Fury's fooling himself if he thinks he can do anything," Clint answered, stroking her hair.


End file.
